


Paint You Wings

by SlytherinPrince67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Godstiel - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinPrince67/pseuds/SlytherinPrince67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester, though this is little known, is a great artist. He can paint, draw, and the things he can with his hands are worthy of biblical scripture. One day, on God's day off, Dean is painting a picture. It was a picture of Castiel t is on this day that Castiel, self proclaimed God, decides to visit his old friend. Castiel is opening churches and he wants Dean to decorate them. Dean tries to deny him, but it is futile. For every art piece Castiel uses Dean can save a friend, and give them access to Heaven. Can art bring the two closer or will Dean forever remain ten strides away from his once best friend?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean smiled as he painted.

  
It was not an activity he got to participate often in. Between apocalypses, angels, demons and gods he barely had time. While with Lisa he had painted for a while, Lisa had loved his art and Ben had hung some of them up in room, mainly the comic based ones. But, well, what with Castiel deciding Dean and Sam were no longer permitted to hunt Dean had more spare time than he could handle, Baby was up to par and one could only spend so much time with their brother. Sam, ever the rebellious one, had tried rebelling against Castiel. So far, it had worked great. The monsters ran from them both, Castiel's threat apparently hung high in their minds. Dean, after fixing up baby and visiting Bobby for a while, had taken painting back up. He hadn't realised he missed it until he felt the relief if seeing a finished piece again.

  
At first he had painted Sam, young Sam, at college. That was Dean's favourite Sam; he had always looked so happy back then. Then he had painted Baby on an empty cross road. The sky was filled with a sunset; Dean figured he'd keep that one. Finally he had painted Cas. He missed the dude more than he willing to admit. His wings were block black, scratchy lines and jagged art, while the rest of him was detailed, coloured, and soft; just like the real thing.

  
Dean didn't hear the door open, nor did he hear the familiar flutter of angelic wings. He didn't feel the all too familiar sense of his once best friend invading his space; his head too close, as he watched Dean work. "This is very good Dean," his voice was deep, rough. Dean turned suddenly, accidentally spilling a bright light blue onto the new God's trench coat. The god bent down to pick up the paintbrush, passing it back to his favourite human. "Hello Dean," he greeted. Dean stood in front of the picture, hiding it from view. "Shit, sorry man," Dean scratched the back of his head. "All is well Dean," he brushed a finger against the paint and it disappeared. "So what's the word?" Dean asked. Castiel sat down on the edge of his friend's bed. It was squeaky, hard and very uncomfortable.

  
Perhaps he would gift his friend with a new one; it wouldn't do for Dean to have a lack of rest. "I have not heard word of you for a while, it appears only your brother continues to fight," Castiel spoke pointedly. "This is not the Dean I remember," Castiel continued. Dean shrugged, "You want me to fight Cas?" Dean asked. Castiel shook his head, "you are safer here, with your easel and paintbrush. I prefer you here," Castiel stated, he got back up. "So I'm alive, hey, hello, hi; you can leave now." Dean hated how toxic his voice sounded, like Castiel was a vermin he wanted out of his house but he couldn't help it. Cas wasn't supposed to be here, Dean preferred to miss him from afar than have to deal with what he had become. "Dean, I did not come simply to check up on you." Castiel told him, Dean dipped his paintbrush pack into the paint and turned back to the painting. "What you after then?" Dean asked. "I came to see you, we were like brothers once," Dean refused to allow himself to remember that, to remember how maybe he would've wanted something more. He refused to allow himself to remember Castiel the warrior, the angel who fell from Heaven and rebelled to keep him and the rest of humanity safe. That Cas was dead, Cas was dead. Castiel furrowed his eyebrows, "I thought you would be pleased that I had come to see you," Castiel admitted. He got up to leave; Dean turned and grabbed his wrist. It was a risky move, especially now, what with Castiel high on power but he couldn't let him just leave again. "I am happy, I miss you too" Dean sighed. Why did he have to be such a bag of dicks?

  
Castiel looked down at his gripped wrist and wasn't sure whether he was supposed to attack Dean was daring to think he had any power in this meeting what so ever or to feel pleased that Dean was finally accepting Castiel back into his life. He chose both. "Dean, release me." Dean hurried to obey. "Sorry, I, uh" Dean muttered to himself. Castiel smirked. "How have you been?" He asked. Dean smiled, he painted as he spoke. "I've been good, Sam drops by sometimes, yeh know, checks up on me every now and then. Charlie dropped by last week, we had a Games of Thrones marathon, met her fairy girlfriend." Dean went through the last few months, "Hunters are looking for you Cas," Dean told him, worry seeping into his tone. Castiel nodded, “I also know that they sought you out,” Dean stopped painting for a second before continuing, “Yeah, well,” Dean muttered. Dean told them right where to stick it, so maybe Cas was being a bit of a dick, he was family and that would always come first. “Dean,” Castiel got up, gripping his friend’s arm and making Dean stop. “It’s finished,” Dean looked at it, starred at it. “It doesn’t look right,” he muttered. Castiel spoke softly. “I often think that,” Castiel murmured to himself. His voice was so close to Dean’s ear, and Dean wanted to drown in it. Everything was so hard. He felt so lonely all the time, a lonely pathetic artist who didn’t even have the balls to help his brother save the world. Castiel starred at the art intently, “I want it.” It was a demand, not a request. Dean turned around, face to face with his once best friend. “No way,” Dean laughed, this was easy. This felt right. Castiel narrowed his eyes, “You will be the artist to decorate my churches Dean Winchester,” Castiel stated. Dean spluttered, “Decorate your churches? Cas man, these, it’s just a hobby,” Dean gestured to his art. “They are good; you portray me with love instead of fear. I can think of no one I would rather have decorating my churches,” Castiel walked around the room. “I will, of course, need a full body image. I will need a close up of my face…” Castiel bagan to list off things that he wanted, Dean could feel the pressure getting to his head, like he was suffocating. “Cas!” he yelled. Castiel stopped, looking at his friend. “Dean, Dean, Dean,” he purred. Dean went stiff. “Cas, I’ll decorate your stupid churches, but my way yeah?” Castiel looked at Dean intently, as though judging him and then smiled, it was a true Cas smile and it made Dean’s soul light up. “Yes, very well, I agree. You shall make me masterpieces Dean, you will be famous!” Dean looked down, blushing. He’d be happy just not to get smited thanks. “For every piece I like and use to decorate my church you can have a friend under my protection and they will be guaranteed access to Heaven,” Dean starred at Cas. “Dude, seriously?” Castiel nodded. “Money means nothing to you, neither does fame or sex. Protection for those you love is the only thing that means anything to you,” it was then that Dean did something he almost regretted. He ran towards Castiel and hugged him, he hugged him tight.

  
The hug screamed so many things to the God.

_I miss you. I hate you. Why did you do this to us? I think I loved you. Come back. Come home. Thank you. Cas. Cas. Cas._

  
Castiel remained stiff at first, before relaxing and wrapping his arms around Dean. “You are the favourite of all my people Dean,” Castiel told him. Dean squeezed him then abruptly let go.

  
Castiel did not allow himself to feel mourning, loss, when Dean let go. It was abrupt, as if Dean had suddenly remembered they were no longer Dean &Cas, unlikely brothers in arms but a human and a god. Dean picked up the painting, passing it to the god. “Sammy’s first, Sammy’s always first,” Castiel nodded, looking at the piece. “I await it’s brothers,” he told Dean. Before he left, Dean called for him. “You’re coming back, right?” Castiel turned and smiled.

  
“Dean, I always come back to you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to a bar

Not for the first time that day Dean glanced back at the black canvas. He should be working, doing something. He blinked. He just needed some inspiration. With one final glimpse back to the empty canvas, Dean grabbed his jacket and left. The bar was dirty, loud, and full of gruff men, as well as sparsely clothed women. The bar felt like home. Dean waved his hand for a drink, ordered his whisky and waited. He leaned back, and thought. He thought about Cas and Sam. He thought about Bobby, Ash; hell he even thought about Garth. He thought about the Harvelle’s, everyone they had lost and everyone they had gained. He thought how far they had come, all they accomplished; all they had lost. He thought about how they had got here. So far in thought was he that he didn’t even notice the angel that slipped into the seat next to him, nor did he hear the tell-tale flutter of wings. “Sir,” the angel spoke and Dean jumped slightly. “Sir Dean, our Lord requests that you return to the safe house.” Dean looked down at the rather small looking angel, really was Dean viewed as that far gone? “Excuse me?” he asked. “Our Lord…” Dean interrupted the small voiced angel, “Tell your Lord that I am having a drink,” Dean told him. Dean took another sip of his drink. The angel grabbed his arm, “I insist,” Dean shook him off, clenched his jaw and stood up; so he was towering over the angel. “I’m having a drink,” he walked away to sit at a table when suddenly everything went deathly quiet. “Dean,” a deep voice called and Dean heard the one voice he would be able to out of a crowd of millions, Dean sat down anyway. “Please, my lord, I tried…” the angel began to stutter. Castiel waved him off, “Return to your flock,” he ordered and the angel did so, nodding his respect at the new god. Castiel walked over to the righteous man, “Dean, come,” he ordered. Dean looked up, true defiance and fire in his eyes. “I’m just having a bloody drink Cas; I haven’t left that house for weeks, weeks. You’re lucky I didn’t go for a drive,” Dean snapped. Castiel narrowed his eyes; he could read between the lines. You’re lucky I didn’t go on a hunt, you’re lucky I didn’t find Sam. Castiel stroked Dean’s face and his very being lit up when Dean did not flinch. “I will escort you home, Dean, and then we shall discuss certain privileges and rights,” Dean looked up at Castiel. Castiel touched Dean’s forehead with his forefingers, and just before he passed out Dean murmured, “I really did just want a drink…”

Dean awoke in his bedroom, lying on his bed, Castiel looking down upon the ex-hunter. “Cas, what the Hell man,” Dean groaned, head slightly sour from the sudden celestial aid. It had been a while since Castiel had used his powers on him. “The world is not yet ready for you,” Castiel stated. “Ready for me?” Dean wondered aloud. “Yes, I will cleanse it and then you may roam as you please. Until then, if you wish to leave you may call on me,” Castiel state, speaking his word as if it was one of the Ten Commandments. “Cas, dude, you can’t expect me to stay in here,” Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel flicked his wrist. A chair flew in and he sat on it. “No, I expect you to call me.” Castiel crossed his arms, giving Dean a horrible feeling that he was fighting a losing battle. “Hey God, I want a beer, you think you can abandon your godly responsibilities to walk to the pub down the road?” Dean said sarcastically, the sarcasm dripping off of his tongue like acid. Castiel nodded. “Say please, and with less sarcasm,” Castiel ordered. Dean clenched his jaw. “Cas, I am not going to pray to you every time I want to go for a bloody walk,” Dean snapped. “I am doing this to protect you, Dean,” Castiel growled. “I am not a pet! I did fine before you flew into my life!” Dean yelled. Castiel stood up, leaning over the sat up, enraged, Winchester. His eyes turned very dark, as he spoke very lowly, “As I recall, Dean Winchester, you were in Hell transforming a beautiful soul into that of an abomination.” He growled. Dean gulped, he felt sweat bead up on his skin and his heart hammering in his chest, he remembered Hell well and was still grateful to Cas for saving him, despite what he had done and would continue to do, Dean would always feel gratitude for that. “Cas, come on man,” Dean was practically begging now, his was less rebellious, strained. “I have always respected your rebellious nature. It is stubbornness, I believe, that saved us all from the apocalypse, but now is not the time to fight me Dean,” Castiel was still looming over him and Dean gave no retort.

Castiel sighed and sat down. “I have frightened you,” he sounded saddened, put out. Dean blinked, “This was not my intention. I do not want you to fear me,” Dean reached over for Castiel’s hand. Castiel looked at Dean, and it made Dean’s heart ache. This was the guy, who had been his best friend, who had given his everything, had lost his moral compass, to give Dean a better world, a cleaner world without hunting and without responsibilities. Dean could not dispute that his life was no doubt easier, he had no responsibilities, no need to care for Sammy or anyone else, all he had to do was paint and stay safe. All Castiel asked of him was to stay safe and sound, the god could have been much more demanding, could have asked many things from Dean. “Okay Cas, I’ll call you,” Dean spoke softly, defeated. Castiel let a soft smile grace his features. He held Dean’s hand. Dean pulled away, like he had been burnt. “I just want you to be safe,” Castiel stood up, ready to leave. “Are you leaving?” Dean asked, standing up, almost falling out of his bed. Castiel crouched to steady his friend, “It is clear you do not want me here, in your presence,” Castiel voice was returning to the monotone, frozen octave that the rest of the world knew. Dean let a cheeky grin take his face, “Could you please escort me to a local bar?” Dean requested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Castiel looked at Dean, raised an eyebrow, sceptical of his human’s intentions. “I mean I need someone to protect me, keep me safe. The world simply isn’t ready for me, far too unclean for me,” Dean smirked at his friend. Castiel rolled his eyes but nodded, “Of course, my beloved.”

The word struck Dean frozen at first. Dean blinked, before deciding he would take what he could get. He followed Castiel out of his home. Castiel smirked as he walked.

Dean would come around; Dean would be his once more.

Castiel would make sure of that.

They were half way there anyway.

Yes, Dean was his.


End file.
